


fealty

by kivalka



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), Canon Era, Established Relationship, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Love Confessions, M/M, Soft Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), can you call it a love confession if they're already in a loving relationship, executive decision: yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:55:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29886279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kivalka/pseuds/kivalka
Summary: Arthur and Merlin share a quiet moment after Arthur's coronation.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 138





	fealty

**Author's Note:**

> should i be writing essays instead of fics? absolutely. am i? of course not.
> 
> this tidbit popped into my head while i was walking in the woods the other day and demanded to be written because i crave softness and love.
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are very much appreciated, and as always, i do not own these characters and am not making any profit.

The latch on Arthur’s chamber-door slid closed with a decisive sound. For the first time since the crack of dawn, they were alone. Merlin stepped further into the room, lighting the candles with a wave of his hand. Their muted, flickering glow reflected off Arthur’s crown and for a moment it was as though his head was wreathed in flame. Merlin let his eyes linger on Arthur’s back, his neck, a sliver of skin exposed between his high-collared tunic and his short-cropped hair.

“That went well,” Merlin said, and Arthur turned, his features settling into a soft, tired expression. 

It had, in fact, gone well. Last night, in the darkness of his bed, Arthur had confessed his fears: ridiculous ones (the tablecloth at the feast would somehow catch fire, he would trip over the hem of his cloak), which Merlin had dismissed with a teasing elbow to Arthur’s ribs, and more momentous ones (someone would contest his legitimacy, his speech would not go over well), which Merlin had done his best to reassure. None of these stress-induced imaginings had come true; Arthur’s speech had been a resounding success, the feast had been delicious, all parties involved in the coronation ceremony had walked smoothly and without impediment on the part of cloaks. And Merlin had knelt with everyone else on the smooth floor of the throne room and sworn an oath of fealty to His Majesty Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. His heart swelled with pride at the memory.

In the quiet chamber, a log cracked in the fireplace. Arthur still said nothing. He stepped forward and took Merlin’s hands with impossible gentleness. His leather gloves, made to order for the ceremony, were stiff against Merlin’s fingers. Arthur wore an open expression and a tiny, almost-there smile. 

_He’s either going to kiss me or insult me,_ Merlin thought. But apparently Arthur could still occasionally – very occasionally – surprise him, because what he did was neither of those things.

He knelt.

He knelt with a brush of fabric as his cloak pooled thickly around him, and looked up at Merlin, still with that heart-wrenching openness. There was a funny feeling in Merlin’s stomach.

“What are you doing?” 

“You swore an oath of fealty to me, now it’s my turn to swear one to you.” If Merlin had not known Arthur so well, he would not have detected the infinitesimal tremble in his voice.

“What, no, Arthur—” 

“Please.” Now Arthur’s voice was truly small and uncertain. “Let me do this.”

“Okay.” Merlin’s voice was strangled, and he took a steadying breath. “Okay.”

Arthur took a few breaths of his own. His grip tightened on Merlin’s hands. Then, steadily and deliberately, he kissed each of Merlin’s knuckles. 

The funny feeling in Merlin’s stomach had taken over his entire ribcage.

“Merlin of Ealdor.” Arthur was looking up at him again, earnestly. “Son of Hunith and Balinor. Dragonlord. Emrys. My best friend, my closest confidante. My love. I, Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot, swear to you, on my crown, on my sword, and on my life, that as long as I live, I will strive to protect and serve you to the best of my ability. I will love you until the day I die, and even beyond death if such a thing is possible. And I swear that I will restore magic to its rightful place at the heart of Camelot. I will be by your side in everything for as long as you will have me. You have my word, and my heart.” 

Merlin was feeling quite lightheaded. Arthur had never been prone to bouts of verbal affection, and though he often showed Merlin his love, he rarely confessed it out loud, and almost never outside the warmth and darkness of a shared bed. To have Arthur lay out his heart in the bright candlelight, wearing his crown, was, well, it was a lot.

And Arthur was still looking _up_ at him with such vulnerability in his eyes. All at once Merlin felt the need for them to be at the same level. He sank to his knees on the stone floor. 

They were still holding hands, but Arthur was wearing those damned gloves, and it was too much, they were too far away from each other. Merlin peeled off Arthur’s gloves and, tossing them onto the table, feverishly kissed Arthur’s hands. 

“Thank you,” Merlin whispered.

For a perfect pocket of time, they sat across from one another on the floor, holding hands and gazes, Arthur in ceremonial garb and Merlin in his formal livery, listening to the fire crackle. 

Long after Merlin’s legs had fallen asleep, Arthur stifled a small yawn. Merlin shook himself, rose, and pulled Arthur up with him.

“Come,” he said softly, “let’s get you out of those things.”

Merlin lifted the heavy golden crown from Arthur’s head, placing it in its velvet-lined box. He removed Arthur’s thick ceremonial cloak, his embroidered tunic, his shiny, waxed boots, his soft linen shirt, his trousers, and slipped a long, worn nightshirt over Arthur’s head. 

After hanging everything up neatly in Arthur’s wardrobe (for once), Merlin turned back towards the center of the chamber. Arthur was standing by the table where Merlin had left him, seemingly just waiting to be shepherded into bed. In his too-large nightshirt he looked tiny, his bare legs spindly. His hair was dented from where his crown had rested. Merlin’s heart ached with tenderness. 

Arthur smiled when Merlin ran gentle hands through his hair, smoothing and untangling it, and sighed contentedly when Merlin kissed him.

People in Ealdor liked to warn that ordinariness and habit were love’s most potent enemies. Yet in this moment Merlin relished the familiarity of the weight of Arthur’s hands at his waist, of Arthur’s lips against his. He sent a silent prayer for many years ahead to grow even more accustomed to such things.

Merlin pulled away and gazed at Arthur. 

“Hello,” he said.

“Hi.” Arthur was wearing that slightly lovestruck expression which Merlin would never tire of seeing. “You’re staying tonight?”

“No, I reckon Gaius has some errands for me to run in the middle of the night.”

A gentle exhale, an eye roll. “Shut up.”

“Go get in bed before your feet freeze, I’ll be right there.”

Merlin could feel Arthur watching him as he quickly undressed. He no longer found it disconcerting or nerve-wracking as he once had; they kept no secrets from each other now. It was comforting to be seen. To be known. 

“You look daft naked with just your socks on,” Arthur commented. He was fully ensconced in a mound of blankets, only his head visible. 

“I’m being intelligent!” Merlin replied as he crossed the room to rummage around for a nightshirt of his own. 

“Look,” he said, hopping onto the mattress after selecting a pale yellow shift, “I take my socks off once I’m already in bed, and then I don’t get horrible icicle feet like you do.” Merlin proceeded to do just that, and kick Arthur’s shins under the covers to prove his point. 

Arthur laughed and pulled Merlin close. “Hold me?” he asked in a small voice.

“Of course.” Merlin settled on his back and wrapped his arms around Arthur, who pillowed his head just over Merlin’s heart. 

Merlin extinguished the candles with a thought and fell asleep dreaming of the day, soon to come, when he could do such a thing openly.


End file.
